Playing by the Baby Rules

“Okay.” Marisa started up the stairs to her apartment above the shop. As they stopped in the hall outside her door, the door to the adjacent apartment opened a crack, snapping tightly against half-a-dozen security chains. A single eyeball peered out.

“It’s just us, Mr. Kloppman,” she called. “Marisa and Jake.”

“Hand please,” a muffled voice ordered, and a small metal cheese grater slid through the opening. Obediently Marisa held out her hand and the grater hovered briefly over her palm. “Next.”

Jake did the same. When Mr. Kloppman appeared confident they were who they claimed to be, he slid the chains free and opened the door.

“Can’t be too careful,” he said, his eyes shifting nervously up and down the short hallway. “I saw it on the news. They can change shape, look or sound like anyone.”

Behind her, Jake chuckled and Marisa elbowed him sharply in the gut. “Have you been watching X-Files again, Mr. Kloppman?”

He shook his head. “Heck no. This was on the late news last night. You keep your doors locked. It’s not safe.” He backed into his apartment, again checking the short stretch of the hallway. “Trust no one,” he said as the door snapped shut.

“That guy is certifiable,” Jake said, after they were safely inside her apartment with the door locked. “I’m afraid he’s going to snap one of these days and hurt someone.”

“He’s harmless. Besides, his daughter pays the rent on time every month and as long as he lives next door I never have to worry about an alarm system.” Clearing a week’s worth of newspapers off the couch, Marisa collapsed onto the overstuffed cushions, stretching out her legs. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Jake sat across from her in the leather recliner and leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “It’s about what happened today at lunch.”

Marisa’s heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

“It’s pretty much the only thing I’ve been thinking about. How about you?”

“Me, too.”

“Is it just me, or do you get the feeling that somehow the dynamics of our entire relationship have changed?”

She didn’t want things to change, but she couldn’t deny that something was different. Looking down at her hands, she nodded.

“In that case, I think Lucy is right,” he said. “I should be the father of your baby.”

Four

Marisa’s head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I would be the perfect man to father your child.”

She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. The idea of having Jake’s baby had been funny when Lucy suggested it. Funny in a “yeah, like that would ever happen” way. But this was Jake suggesting it, looking at her as if…as if he was seriously considering it.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Think about it,” he said. “What was the main reason we decided it would be a bad idea? We were afraid things would get weird. That we would feel differently about our relationship. But that’s already happened.”

He had a point. She did feel different, and as much as she’d like to believe otherwise, with the progression of her condition, this could be her last chance to have a baby.

“Look,” he said, “you want to raise a child on your own, no husband or significant other, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“I don’t want a wife and kids—ever. You’re not going to find too many men willing to permanently give up their parental rights. But you know me. You can trust me.”

“I don’t doubt that you would honor any agreement we made. But you’re talking about creating a life, Jake—a baby. You do understand that?”

“Of course I do. You would be an amazing mother, Marisa. You deserve that chance.”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. We’re talking about sex. You and me, having sex. Together.”

“Are you trying to say that you wouldn’t want to have sex with me? That you find me unappealing?”

“No! No, it’s not that at all. Jeez, what woman wouldn’t find you appealing?”

“As far as the gene pool goes, I know I don’t come from the best stock—”

“Your genes are just fine.” She leaned forward, clasping his hands firmly between her own. “I would be proud to carry your child. My biggest fear—my only fear—is that it might damage our friendship.”

“You’re my dearest friend, nothing could ever change that.”

She’d never seen him look so serious, so sincere. He made it sound simple—have sex, make a baby.

Maybe it sounded too simple.

“You realize that this isn’t necessarily a one-shot deal. It could take months,” she said. “A year even. If it happens at all.”

He nodded solemnly. “I understand. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“And we would have to establish some ground rules. So things don’t get…confusing. Because things could get awfully confusing, Jake. This is going to change everything.”

“I think setting rules is a good idea.”

“Can you promise me that, no matter what, this will not damage our friendship? You can handle this?”

“I can handle it. I promise.” He squeezed her hands. “I want to do this for you.”

He could handle it, but could she? She knew she should take her time, think this over for a while. She also knew deep in her heart the decision was already made. There had never been a doubt.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.”

Marisa set her wine on the coffee table, dug a legal pad from under a pile of newspapers and pulled a purple gel pen from between the couch cushions. “Are you ready?”

Jake nodded. “Can I take the first one?”

She marked a big purple One on the first line, noting that her hands had finally stopped shaking but her stomach was still a maze of tightly bound knots. Excitement, nerves, fear—she couldn’t recall ever feeling so many intense emotions all at once.

“I say that we have to be totally honest with each other at all times if this is going to work. Even about things that might make us uncomfortable.”

“Okay, rule number one—total honesty. And I think our number two rule should be that we only, um…do it—”

“Time out.” He held his hands up in a tee shape. “Before we go any further, we should establish what it is we’re going to be doing.”